


The Weight of Past History

by Telesilla



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Character of Color, Community: comment_fic, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-15
Updated: 2009-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:58:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both have scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of Past History

It happens, of course. And, as almost everyone he's ever met has told him, it would have been a lot worse if the amputation hadn't been necessary when he was a baby, if he'd remembered having them, or even worse, remembered what it felt like to use them.

People mean well, so John nods and trots out the pained little smile he's rehearsed for such occasions and tries not to remember the sight of his mother's wings, all soft amber colored feathers, spread against the bright blue California sky as she soared.

(He likes Rodney because Rodney's attempt at offering sympathy was something along the lines of: "well that sucks pretty hard. Here, I need you to activate this Ancient thing so I can tell if it's a nightlight or a grow lamp." And if he'd reached back and surreptitiously stroked the dull bronze leather of his own wings, well that was understandable and was, as John was to learn, more a nervous habit than anything else.)

Most of John's men don't have wings--very few winged folk join up and those that do are rarely assigned to combat units--and that makes things a little easier, in spite of the fact that a disproportionate number of the scientists are winged.

And then there's Ronon. He tells John that, unlike the Athosians, wings were very uncommon among the Satedans. He tells John that most winged Satedans joined religious or scholarly orders and had very little to do with the rest of the population.

When, at night, John wakes from dreams of flight, Ronon holds him close and then turns him over to brush his lips against John's scars before pressing into him and bringing him back into the now and the warm, safe haven of their rooms.

It's not a quid pro quo, John thinks on the nights when he does the same for Ronon, but it's more than a coincidence, he knows, that both of them carry the visible signs of their pasts in the same place.

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for comment_fic. My prompt was: SGA, Sheppard/Ronon, I fly because I lost my wings


End file.
